


Any Port in a Storm

by evelynIttor



Series: Hell Recovery Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: cottoncandy_bingo, Gen, hell issues, sam comes back from hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 18:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1754339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evelynIttor/pseuds/evelynIttor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bobby never thought he’d see that face on the other side of his door again. Cotton candy bingo Shelter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Any Port in a Storm

Bobby yawned and shut his battered copy of the Rituale Romanum. He’d been up since five that morning. Rufus had called to give him a couple of minutes warning before he had to pretend to be the FBI on the other line.

The day had gone downhill from there. It was pouring rain and his roof was leaking again, only this time it decided to leak onto a stack of priceless and most likely irreplaceable books. His car had blown a tire leaving his driveway, so he couldn’t get groceries and there wasn’t anything fresh for dinner. There’s was enough rations and canned food to last him until judgement day, or a couple years after if judgement day came sooner than expected.

It was after eleven now and the beer had won out over his after dinner coffee. Bobby stood up and groaned. His legs and back were achy. It was time to hit the hay.

The knock on his front door sent a jolt of adrenaline through his body and Bobby grabbed a shotgun before walking quietly to the front door. He flicked the porch light on and peered out.

“Sam?” He couldn’t believe his eyes. He’d seen what happened, he knew where Sam was. And there was no way the boy was standing there now. No way, even Castiel had said it was impossible. All the hosts of Heaven wouldn’t have been able to manage it.

The man on the porch didn’t say anything. He raised his head, shivering in the rain.

Bobby slid back the bolt on the door and opened it enough to reach out and pass Sam a bottle of holy water. “Take a drink.” He ordered, still not sure if the man before him was really Sam.

When the holy water had no effect, Bobby passed out a silver letter opener. He’d sharpened the one side enough to cut flesh, but it was an awkward weapon and it kept him just a little bit safer.

Sam sliced through the flesh on his arm, pressing hard. Blood welled up from the cut and dripped down but the wound didn’t smoke and Bobby threw the door open.

“Get in here. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Sam stepped in, dripping water all over the entrance way and sunk to the floor, curling himself into a ball. He was making soft sounds and when the door was closed and Bobby bent close, he heard them as sobs that shook Sam’s entire body.

“Hey, come on. Take a hot shower. I’ll find you something to wear. And I’ll stitch that arm up when you’re done.” Bobby headed for his study. He had some calls to make.

Sam was still curled in on himself when Bobby finished talking to Dean.

“Sam?” Bobby knelt down next to the Winchester. “Come on, up you get.” Sam jumped back as if shocked when Bobby touched him, but a moment later he leaned into the touch and let Bobby pull him to his feet.

It took them a long time to make it up the stairs, Bobby supporting Sam’s considerable bulk and Sam doing nothing to make it easier. The rush of water in the shower spooked him and Bobby drew the line at helping Sam undress.

“I’ll find you something to wear. Get in the shower.” Bobby left the bathroom, but kept the door open as he hurried down the hall. He didn’t have much that would fit Sam.

Sam still shivered after the hot shower and despite being wrapped in layers of blankets on top of a pair of too short sweatpants and a t-shirt that stretched tight across his shoulders. He sat on Bobby’s guest bed with his injured arm laying on his lap, hunched forward to try and stay warm.

“Hey, hey.” Bobby tried to pat him comfortingly. “I’m amazed you’re here kiddo. You’re gonna have to talk sometime.” He sat down on his desk chair and picked up a syringe with a needle screwed onto the end. “You’re lucky I’ve got some lidocaine around. You ready?”

Sam nodded, so at least he was there. Bobby took a deep breath and began the process of repairing the younger Winchester. It took longer than it should have. Sam’s eyes were closed and he shook and shuddered as Bobby waited for his skin to numb up and carefully placed two layers of sutures in his arm. Nice dissolving thread too. 

“All done.” Bobby dumped the needle and thread into a box and wrapped some gauze around Sam’s arm. “You want something to eat?”

Sam shook his head and reached his uninjured arm out tentatively. Bobby took his hand, hoping that was what the gesture went. Sam pulled him close, the movement was weak but the intent was clear and Bobby played along.

“Hey Sam, hey.” Bobby let Sam wrap his arms around him and returned the embrace. “I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but it’s done now. Dean’s coming. He’ll be here tomorrow, maybe the day after.” He squeezed Sam’s shoulder and rubbed as the muscles beneath his fingers clenched and spasmed. 

“Come on, lay down.” Bobby pulled back the covers on the spare bed and nudged at Sam’s legs with his foot until Sam lifted them up. He spread the covers back over them and let Sam snuggle into his chest. 

Slowly, lulled by the sound of Bobby’s breaths, Sam’s shaking slowed and he fell asleep, wrapped in a warm embrace.


End file.
